


Piano, Math, Cake

by nagi_schwarz



Series: The Oppenheimer Effect [54]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 10:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7358119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Multiverse, Rodney McKay, His best childhood memories are tied to food."</p><p>In which Rodney eats cake at Tyler's birthday party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Piano, Math, Cake

Given what Jeannie had told Rodney about children’s birthday parties - clowns, balloons, running around and screaming - Rodney supposed he should have been grateful that his first experience at a children’s birthday party was Tyler’s. Tyler was turning eighteen, and he didn’t like clowns. Mostly Rodney had to enjoy cake, smile and be supportive, and help the rest of the men make sure that Tyler, Tina, and Sasha didn’t get into too much trouble.  
  
The cake was divine.   
  
“Keep making noises like that and we’re going to have to get a room,” John murmured.  
  
“Cake is one of my favorite things,” Rodney said. He sucked another morsel off his fork and smiled to himself.   
  
“You might have mentioned that sooner.” John nudged Evan. “Teach me to bake a cake.”  
  
“Can you read?” Evan asked. He was watching JD and Cam ganging up on Sasha and Tina on Street Fighter at the arcade.  
  
Rodney was offended on John’s behalf. “Of course he can read.”  
  
“Then you can bake a cake. Follow the instructions, get a cake.” Evan sounded...distracted.  
  
John slid closer to Rodney. “What kind of cake is your favorite?”  
  
“That’s a difficult question. Lots of kinds. Red velvet. Angel’s food. Devil’s food. Carrot cake. Cheese cake. Shortcake.”  
  
“Why cake?” John asked.  
  
Rodney closed his eyes and hummed happily, chewing on another bite of cake. Tyler liked coconut everything, and Evan had somehow made a coconut yellow cake. The cake was moist but fluffy, and the frosting had shredded coconut in it, but there was also a hint of almond. “My Great-Aunt Agnes,” he said after swallowing. “She made cake all the time. She was one of those cryptographers at Bletchley Park during World War II. She watched Jeannie and I sometimes, when we were children. Introduced us to algebra and calculus at an early age. Her house was amazing. Piano, math, and cake.”  
  
Whenever Rodney took a bite of good cake, he was back in Aunt Agnes’s dim parlor, perched on one of her overstuffed chairs with a dusty Calculus volume open on his knees, warmed by the fire crackling in the hearth and listening to Aunt Agnes play Gershwin on the grand piano in the corner.  
  
“What happened to her?” John asked quietly.  
  
“She died when I was, what, twelve?”  
  
The same time he’d stopped playing piano. He had no heart, his piano teacher said. No, his heart had been broken.  
  
“She left me her piano, but I’ve never had room for it.”  
  
“So you have two pianos?”  
  
“Couldn’t live without one. When we move out, we can leave the upright where it is. I can get the grand out of storage.” Rodney took another bite of cake.  
  
John blinked. “When we move out?”  
  
“Not right now,” Rodney said. “Just...eventually.” He’d been thinking about it for a while. After the whole thing with Sophia, he was interested in taking on more children. But there was no room for it in that house, not with Tyler already there.  
  
John reached out, covered Rodney’s hand with his. “Want to talk about it more?”  
  
“Later,” Rodney said. “Your fans await.”  
  
Tina and Sasha were jumping up and down, hollering, “Shep! Shep! Come beat JD at shooting!”  
  
“There’s a video game called Area 51,” John said. “Apparently I need to go shoot some zombies.”  
  
“Pretty sure JD’s shot zombies in real life,” Rodney said. But he pressed a kiss to John’s cheek. “Go, shoot, win nothing.”  
  
John huffed. “Gamer cred, Rodney. I’ll win gamer cred.”  
  
Rodney watched him go, watched him laugh and smile with the girls and show off a little with the toy rifle. He watched JD and Cam, horsing around with Tyler on a basketball game. The thing was obviously rigged, but Cam was a great shot even from his chair. Tyler looked admiring every time Cam or JD made a basket. Rodney remembered holding little Sophia in his arms, the way she’d gazed at him trustingly. Tyler was their first, but he was mostly Cam’s. Rodney decided that Tyler wouldn’t be their last. One day a child would eat cake and tell her best friend or teacher or someone that eating cake always made her think of John and Rodney’s house, with math and music and warmth and love.


End file.
